The Story of Us
by totheextraordinarykb
Summary: For all intents and purposes, Kate Beckett should not be with Richard Castle.


Disclaimer: I'm just fooling around in the amazing world owned by the creators of Castle and by ABC.

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Kate Beckett wakes to the salty taste of tears every morning.

She's gotten used to them, appreciates their familiarity. They keep her grounded, never floating too high. They keep her sane, because the taste tells her she's alive. They keep her realistic, allowing her to remember the heartbreaks and despair she will continue to experience. Despite the years of struggles, despite the hundreds of dollars of therapy, Kate Beckett remains a work in progress. Despite the fact that she can laugh more easily, smile more regularly, and share her emotions without crippling panic, she still has so far to go. She is not fixed. She is not healed.

She is, at best, cracked. At her worst, she's destroyed, broken, shattered.

But there is a man, a magic man, who loves her despite this. There is a man who holds her close, who uses his thumbs to brush away the tears, who uses his words to mend her, to put her back together.

For all intents and purposes, Kate Beckett should not be with Richard Castle.

He is not the bad boy of her teenaged years, the one with the sexy tattoos and the beautiful motorcycle, who scared her father and maybe scared her a little too, when he had one beer too many. He is not a man who can protect her with his strength, blindly pick her up and carry her through a burning building, throw a punch to defend her honor and actually win that fight.

Richard Castle is so much more, though. Kate doesn't need a man to throw a punch for her; she never has. After all, she carries a gun. And with the uncertainty and danger that's permeated every facet of her life, she longs for a solid rock.

He saved her before he even knew her name. His books served as a guiding light when the days were as dark as the nights. The conclusions were reprieves from difficult cases that wouldn't work themselves out. There was a comfort in the way cases flowed orderly, and she used to search for those same threads of storytelling in her cases.

In many ways, it was the influence of Richard Castle's mystery novels and her undying quest for justice melded together that had propelled her to the top of her class. She's never admit it to him – like Castle needs a bigger head – but he had been helping her solve cases since before she had ever walked into his book launch party.

Since that day, he's been the pain in her ass, the helpful voice in her ear, and the man she loves. It had not taken long for her to figure out this was going somewhere, and the thought had petrified her. She'd ran, long and hard, for years. She had ignored the near death experiences, the proclamations of love, the quickened beating of her heart every time he drew near.

But, like love is wont to do, she fell hard. She loved him. She loves him. There was no escaping a love that formed her, that inspired her, that shaped her from the inside out. She needed him, he needed her, and they were better together than apart.

Until, one fateful day, a hired killer and a thunderstorm threw them together in a clap of passion, a ferocious night of kisses and bites, of slow, tender hugs and deep thrusts, of tears and of laughter.

Of love.

And ever since then, Richard Castle was putting her back together. Every time he said, "I love you," her heart allowed itself to believe him a little more. Every kiss repaired a crack. His words helped her to move through painful moments. They fucked hard, explosively and powerfully, still in awe that they were together, that they still existed as a couple.

No, Richard Castle wasn't who Kate Beckett should be with on paper. But in person, he was perfect.

And she moved, slithered up his frame from where her head had been nestled against his chest, and smiled at him, a little smile, but enough. He looked back at her, whispering, "Well, hello." To be sure of him once more, to make sure this wasn't a dream, she leaned down, forward, till their lips collided for a sweet second. Pulling back, she replied, softly, their lips brushing with her words, "I love you."

He wraps his arms around her, before rolling them over so he can lean on his elbows above her. "I love you too," he states, before kissing her once more, his lips drifting to shower her jaw, to her ears. There he hovers, and begins to speak. "I love you because you are extraordinary. I love you because you are the only woman I've ever known who could kick my ass. I love you because you are unbelievably strong, but you let me be here for you anyway. I love you because I've loved the idea of you since before I knew who you were. I love you because you are Kate Beckett, and you are perfectly flawed, but when we're together, we make something remarkable. I love you, because I am meant to. I love you," his voice drops into a husky tone, "always."

Kate twists, captures his lips in a brushing kiss, and even while his tongue twists with hers, even as her taste floods his mouth, even as he guides himself slowly, carefully, into the depths of her, he smiles. Because Kate does with actions what he does with words, and he knows, as her back arches up to him and her breath quickens, a gasp escaping, that she loves him in all the poetic ways.

Yes, Kate Beckett may still cry at night, but she smiles in the morning, and that's enough. Because of Richard Castle, she's healing. Because of Richard Castle, the cracks just mean she's well-loved, not destroyed. Because of Richard Castle, she knows love. Because of him, she feels in an entirely new way, and he accents this with a particularly hard thrust, sending her into space, with stars and visions of him all around her, as her nails slide down his back, trying to find purchase, more of him, more of them.

Kate Beckett and Richard Castle shouldn't be together, but they are.

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_Author's Note: I know we already know this story, but I liked telling it in its entirety. Because, let's face it, in so many ways Kate Beckett and Richard Castle seem like they shouldn't be together. And yet they are, and it's perfect. Why? I wanted to start to answer that question with this piece.  
_

_As always, reviews are SO appreciated. I can't get better without your help!_


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